


Vorsicht vor der Kamera

by komtess_ironie



Category: Rammstein
Genre: 1980s, Bisexuality, But most of the context is historically accurate, Fast-forward and rewind time, German Democratic Republic, Historical, Historical References, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-political!!, Not entirely factual this is fiction, Oral Sex, Photography, Political police, Rammstein AU, Ratings will change later..., Strong Language, Surveillance photography, Time Skips, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komtess_ironie/pseuds/komtess_ironie
Summary: Berlin (East), December 1988. Heiko Hiersche is twenty-three years old. He has just completed his training to become a surveillance photographer for the Stasi.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Christoph Schneider
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. Bewohner I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I hope everyone is safe, now that the virus has been declared a world pandemic. Now that we all are recommended to stay at home, I might start writing more often.
> 
> The title is a reference to a line from the song "Kleptomanie" by the band Extrabreit. It goes well with the historical period portrayed, so I thought it made sense. As mentioned in the tags, this story is partly fictional, partly factual. The Stasi did have surveillance photographers, whose job was to get information by photographing private apartments, events and people on the street. I don't know how they got into people's houses though.  
> This is not linked to any political ideology whatsoever. The reference photo I used, which must be hidden as a link somewhere in the text (an easter egg for you) wasn't for sure taken in 1988, but let us pretend it was. 
> 
> Tumblr: aphorismis

I

_Bewohner I_

Berlin (East), December 1988

Heiko Hiersche is twenty-three years old. He has just completed his training to become a surveillance photographer for the Stasi. He had always loved taking photographs, ever since his mother gifted him a small camera for his seventeenth birthday. It didn’t come easy to her; as a camera was a costly object. From that day on, he would carry his camera everywhere. He’d take photos to dogs, landscapes, friends and family. He would occasionally take photos of himself too. Now, his task serves a greater purpose. Hired by the Stasi, he must now thrive to be discreet, low-profile. A natural observer, he is a perfect fit for the job. Living in Berlin, the Headquarters are not very far away from home.

December eight. Half-past nine in the morning. The air is white and cold. So cold it could pierce your throat. Some people are leaving for work. Mothers taking their children to their respective kindergartens or schools. Some of them on foot, some of them by car. The current commission is a search in a small apartment, in the outskirts of Pankow, belonging to a man whose code name is _Bewohner I_. _Bewohner_ appears to be around his age. Said man is in a punk band, acknowledged to play Western music. Any suspicious activity is meant to be immediately photographed, taken to the headquarters, reported and analyzed.

Heiko enters the apartment. His door-opening techniques are unknown and irrelevant, but the door was quickly opened.

 _How messy he is_ , the young man wonders, turning his gaze to small piles of clothes and books in the living room. On a small coffee table, there’s a series of tapes labeled with English words, seemingly song titles. Heiko doesn’t understand much of English, given that his task is purely simple. He presses the button of his Polaroid, shaking the piece of shiny paper afterwards. Right away, he places it on the table so that it would reveal itself. Rummaging through one of the shelves, he finds three bottles of alcoholic beverages and a pornography tape. One more photograph. A thumping sound startles him. Contrary to expectations, it’s now evident that somebody is inside the house. A very good excuse needs to be thought about in this moment. Leaving as soon as possible seems to be workable too. Yet, something must be wrong with his sagacious qualities. He can’t move, he's frozen.

“Who are you?”

Heiko breathes out, trying to form an answer. They didn’t teach him what to do in these kinds of situations during the training.

“I’ll ask you once again. Who are _you_ , and what are _you_ doing in my house?”

“I’m-”

“You’re taking photos? Get out!”

The man comes forward in quick steps, only to suddenly stop and stand before him. He’s tall, much taller than him. He’s wearing pajamas: a very lousy combination of a baggy white t-shirt and grey shorts. His hair is utter brown confusion, shaped like a nest, but still noticeably curly. The house is still very dark, and not many blinds are open; but Heiko can see that a ray of light seems to be concentrated in _Bewohner_ ’s eyes. Icy blue eyes, staring directly into his own, in a very confined rage. So empty, and yet so piercing. No reflection. He can’t even figure out what this man is feeling, thinking about, of planning to do next. It’s terrifying. How can a regular citizen threaten someone who works for the State like this? In this way?

“Who are you?” – _Bewohner_ asks again, with visible tension in his facial muscles, nonetheless never quitting the calm voice tone. Heiko covers his eyes with his hands, refusing to look at those eyes again. The camera falls to the floor. He cannot hold it anymore.

“I’m Heiko Paul Hiersche. I work for the Stasi.” – He gives in, almost crying. Maybe he is not so fit for the job. He’s wondered that before, even though this was his first commission.

“Why are you here?”

“I was commissioned to take photographs of your apartment, given that you’re playing in a punk band.”

“Speaks like a fucking tape.” – _Bewohner_ states in disdain. “A remarkable example for the workers and the farmers…fucking stupid. Just stupid. I bet you're ass deep into the FDJ too.”

He hurries to shove the polaroids and the camera inside his brown briefcase, always avoiding eye contact with the other young man.

"Are you scared? Maybe you shouldn't be working for them."

"My dad...he...kind of pushed me to do it. He said that I would never have a decent job if I kept on wanting to become a photographer."

"You still have time to get out of there. Why do you people do this? Taking photos of private lives."

The coldness in this man's eyes disappeared progressively, as he tried to calm himself down. He's becoming more welcoming. Heiko can breathe freely now. The thought that he's unfit for the Stasi had really started to sink in.

"I'm Christoph. Sorry for the mess. I was up till late yesterday."

"Don't worry. So...you are in a punk band."

"Yes. Don't you know everything about me already?"

"I don't."

"Why do you ask?"

"I...I like it. Punk music. I don't understand anything they say in the songs, but I do like how it sounds."

_Bewohner has a name_. They weren't strangers anymore. Maybe it wasn't that bad that he almost got beaten up. 

"Do you smoke?" - Christoph sounds momentarily surprised and excited, furrowing his brow and tilting his head to one side. Laughter comes out of his mouth.

"Yes."

"Do you want one?"

"No, thank you."

Now that the tension no longer existed, he was unable to not notice his new acquaintance's physical features. Both men were even similar, in a way. Unlike himself, Christoph was a tall, lanky figure. Heiko was lanky too, as a matter of fact. But now, he feels even shorter. He notices the taller man's big, thin nose. A spotless, angular jaw and chin. Thin lips. Eyebrows so much lighter than the haircolor. Piercing blue eyes. Messy, curly hair, that made his head look substantially bigger than it was. _A silly-looking young man_ , he supposes.

Christoph lights a cigarette, and puts it between his lips, not taking his eyes off him again. Heiko is not scared, _but the eyes_. The eyes are intense, and something tells him to leave immediately. So he focuses on the room instead, preferring to not maintain a conversation. The dark wooden shelves, the orange couches, one facing the other.

"You don't look like one of them." - Christoph remarks, continuing his cigarette.

That is when he remembers what he [looks like](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f5/e6/22/f5e6228136ab996433a1c8efaaf3ea22.gif). Bleach blond hair, in a strange (but acceptable) _mullet_ usually in a messy ponytail. His winter jacket was a brown leather-like material that made him look so small he pitied himself, but coats were not that affordable for the most part, so this one would do.

"I should probably get going. I'm on duty after all." - Heiko stands up, ready to go.

"Sure."

As he reaches the door, he realizes Christoph walked him there.

"Next time you want to come, make sure you knock on the door. Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes."

"Change your name. Why don't you just call yourself Paul? It sounds much better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linguistical/historical references
> 
> 1\. Stasi ("Ministerium für Staatssicherheit"): "Ministry for State Security"- a secret police operating in the GDR from 1950 to c. 1990.  
> 2\. Bewohner: German for inhabitant.  
> 3\. "[State of] Workers and farmers" ("Staat der Arbeiter und Bauern"): one of the ways the GDR referred itself to, during its period of existance.  
> 4\. FDJ ("Freie Deutsche Jugend"): "Free German Youth": Eastern German youth movement linked to the party SED (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands) for persons of ages above 14. Existed from 1949 to 1990.


	2. Paul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny disclaimer, for those concerning it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to finish "Magick" or "Encounter", so if you notice that there are no new chapters, it's because I lost my inspiration for those two, so I apologize sincerely. 
> 
> Still, I have been quite inspired for this new story, since I always wanted to write somthing that stimulates my excitement for the DDR period history even more. Also, you will know the name of the band in which Christoph plays. The band didn't exist, I invented it, because I didn't want to use any real band name. Best wishes. Here is the second chapter.
> 
> Tumblr: aphorismis

II

_Paul_

Right after leaving through the door, the cold had undoubtedly started to sink in Heiko’s body. He could easily feel that the temperature was lower than zero degrees. Not wearing enough clothes, he could now feel the cold deep in his bones. Time to get moving, walk and get just enough warm. Just about to cross the street. A beige _Trabant_ drives by- so fast, that if Heiko ignored his reflexes, he could have easily gotten hit by the car.

The way back to the Headquarters felt long. There was no tiredness. But certainly, some sort of exhaustion. Exhaustion from this new job. Exhaustion from everything about his world. Many thoughts too. _Maybe I’m tired of this. Maybe this is not who I am._ The thoughts that until that moment had only been glimpses, were getting clearer and clearer. The bus stopped almost right in front of the building.

It’s about midday now. He walks himself home. The key inside the keyhole, opening the door in a smooth rotation. The thoughts are getting clearer than ever. _Maybe this is not who I am._ This was not _who he was._ It’s not like he wanted to be _Western_ at all, even though that was a common conversation topic among some of his friends and acquaintances. Everybody wondered how it would be like to be _on the other side_. How do they speak? How do they act? What do they wear, what kind of music can they listen to? It reminded him faintly of Plato’s _Cave_. On one side, the sun illuminated the land, the people. The side that was in the shadow was the cave. A cave no one ever dared to leave, in order to find out about what’s more to life. _His side_. The roots of his lifelong education were showing. Placed on a desk, a copy of the file he had to fill in to sign up for the Stasi. His full name, date and place of birth. 

Paul grabs the file stiffly, walking to the kitchen in quick steps. He finds an old cake pan and throws his file inside it. The file is quickly gushed with alcohol, and in no time, the match scratches the box. Now the file is burning before his eyes. A new cycle. Out with the old. Maybe he never wanted to make himself believe. This was not who he was. He was Paul. He was not Heiko, the kid raised in the shadow of Honecker’s portrait on the wall. He was Paul, and it was time to get out of the cave. In with the new.

* * *

_One day later_

The next morning was equally cold and white. The blinds were left open, which made him wake up as soon as the sun rays begun invading his room. The first thing he sees is the light blue wallpaper. A mold stain in one of the corners.

It’s December ninth. _His birthday_. Right in the middle is Sagittarius season. Paul turned twenty-four in that day, and nothing seemed to fit more than his birthday as a milestone for his transformation. Very early in the morning, he is not too hungry. A couple of fried eggs, a cup of lousy black coffee and a glass of water will do. Although milk coffee would always be a better solution. _But there is no milk in the fridge_. He walks out of the house, just like a normal day of work. The leather jacket is aided by a warm scarf today. He takes the bus, once again. Routines. Routines with a detour. Because he doesn’t really know why he is heading to Pankow again. A few minutes later, he arrives to the destination. Not many people are outside, but his eyes try to look for something familiar where there isn’t anything. Maybe some place that sells coffee. Or that is not really what he is looking for. Head full of thoughts. Sometimes his ability to zone out and drift away might be a curse. A low voice behind him interrupts his emotional deviation.

“Hello? Are you lost?”

“Oh, hello. I’m-” – he turns around and stops speaking, immediately recognizing the man who had just greeted him. He comes back to the physical world.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t know it was you. You from yesterday.”

“You from yesterday aswell. Yes, what a coincidence.”

“What brings you here again? Are you spying on someone else?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I decided I’m going to quit.”

“You… _quit_?” – Christoph arches his eyebrows in surprise. To begin with, he wasn’t expecting to see this man again; and to end with, what made Heiko, or _Paul_ , want to give up on the Stasi?

Soon enough, Christoph invited this new consociate for a cup of coffee. He thought he might want to talk. And soon enough, Paul explained it wouldn’t be safe for him to be seen outside with someone linked to punk culture. Inside Christoph’s apartment again, Paul sits on the orange couch next to the small TV device. The piles of clothes are no longer on the floor, and the books are neatly put in the shelves. That is pleasing to see.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Do you happen to have milk?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’d like half-coffee, half-milk. If it doesn’t bother you.”

“Not at all. Just give me a few minutes.”

The smell of coffee being prepared in the kitchen nearby brings him an endless sense of comfort. Maybe this man with icy blue eyes is not that terrifying, after all. There it is, another mental deviation. In the meantime, it starts snowing outside. The light is still very white.

“There you have. A mixture of cappuccino and milk coffee. I don’t have any fancy ingredients, but I tried.”

“Thank you! I-, I don’t have any fancy ingredients at home either. But this smells great.”

Both men drank the coffee in silence. It seems now that they share the trait of zoning out, which is something that surprises Paul. He met him just one day before, in very dubious circumstances. And now they are sharing coffee. But something made him feel understood, _belonging_.

“Tell me things about you, this is getting awkward. How old are you?” – Christoph asks, breaking the ice.

“Me? I’m twenty-three. I mean, I turn twenty-four today.”

“Today? Happy birthday! Do you want a special drink? _Schnapps_? Beer?”

“Oh, no thanks.”

“Are you on duty?”

“No.”

“So have a glass of something. I’ll have it too, don’t feel embarrassed.”

It is said that alcohol helps the body stay warmer when the temperatures are too low. And that can be confirmed by the two men who casually agreed to drink _schnapps_ from small glasses. It also helps them ease and blow off some steam. Words flow easier.

“Now you tell me something about you.”

“Well, I’m a little younger than you.”

“But you’re so tall!”

“That doesn’t mean a thing. I’m twenty-two.”

After a few more glasses, they get to know eachother better. Christoph was twenty-two and played the drums in a punk band called _Doomed_ , from which he got his nickname “Doom” from. They played mostly Western music, in English, hence the English-labeled tapes on his coffee table. For someone so anti-authoritarian, Christoph confessed he had been in the People’s Army for a few months, something he refused to remember in a jolly way. It’s sure that over half an hour had passed, and the schnapps bottle was nearly empty. Conversation and laughter flowed brilliantly, and so did the course of events.

At some point, Christoph stood up. He looks for something in a box, then waving something in his hand. A vinyl, which he immediately lays on the record player. Right after that, he sits next to Paul. Music starts playing quite aggressively. The vacant blue eyes are back, but it doesn’t scare him anymore, even though they are close. Almost too close. When his eyes did _that thing_ , his words came out as sharp as nothing he’d ever seen or heard. His questions were almost even too direct. This involuntary intimidation was starting to produce unexpected effects in him _. No, stop. This can’t happen._

“When are you going to change your name?”

“My name?”

“Yes. No one’s called Heiko. Come on. Paul suits you better.”

“I know, I’ve realized that today.”

“Do you know this?”

“No, I’ve never heard this song.”

“ _Holiday in Cambodia_. Dead Kennedys. You need more education in what comes to punk. Do you like it?”

“So far, I really like this song.”

“Nice.”

And it had been quite some time since Paul had started to wonder why he is so fascinated by men. Something he tried to ignore, because telling anyone this kind of things would be beyond inappropriate. It would be self-poisoning. And something about Christoph and his nest hair was making him feel witty. Or maybe it was the alcohol. He’s zoning out again. But there is a man in a distance shorter than fifty centimeters. Now, this pure curiosity. He doesn’t know why Christoph hasn’t stopped doing this, with his eyes.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” – The taller man asks, eyes still focused in his.

“What kind of questions are these?”

“Oh my god, shit. I’m sorry.”

Christoph appears embarrassed now, turning his head away. But the embarrassment quickly faded away again.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, no.”

“A boyfriend?”

“Hell no! I’m not-”

“What’s all the fuss about? A man having a boyfriend is nothing to be ashamed of. You have to learn how to be more open-minded, Heiko.”

_That was completely unnecessary_. He knew it wasn’t bad to be interested in men; but the shame. The shame was a punishment. The way Christoph was asking questions was intimidating, he felt like as if he was getting interrogated in a Stasi office. But something made him want to answer. Something warm in his stomach is becoming evident. He swallows dryly.

“I don’t have a boyfriend either.”

“No one? Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Have you ever tried anything with another guy?”

“I don’t think so. No, never.”

“And?”

“But I’ve…”

“But you have…? Continue.”

“I have thought about it.”

Christoph licks his lips. He looks (and smells) clearly drunk. Paul’s breathing is somewhat out of control, given that Christoph is now even closer. He can even feel a hand stroking the right side of his blond hair softly. And somehow, it feels good. The hand moves to his cheek, and from the cheek to the neck. He can feel the younger man’s breath on his face. This has turned him on substantially. He wasn’t expecting such contact.

“You know, you’re a very good-looking boy, Paul.”

“What?”

“You’re handsome. Small. Big eyes. Do you allow me to kiss this cheek?”

“Uh, yes. I think so.”

The sudden contact of Christoph’s thin lips on his cheek made him gasp. No man had ever touched his body. Just as he was about to look for a place to look at, he feels the same lips now on his lips. After that small, short peck, he allows it to deepen. Two, three, four slow kisses, until both men’s lips are completely wet. A hand is sunken into his hair, and other hand is on his hips. Paul lets go and attempts to mimic what’s been done to him. He tries to touch that mist of curly brown hair, and what he gets in response is a feisty tongue inside his mouth. Christoph quickly breaks away from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you earlier today, but I didn’t know how to do it.”

“Really?”

Someone knocks on the door.

> _To be continued..._


	3. Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter featuring a small appearence from another character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am back with a new chapter, but this one works like a filler. Next chapter will move further in time, so I needed a way to not make it seem so out of context.
> 
> Tumblr: aphorismis

III

_Interrupted_

_Someone knocked on the door. –_

A moment, interposed like so. _A moment_. A moment none of the two men seemed to understand. Seconds that moved in mysterious ways. Immovable on the couch, not knowing what to do, and for a couple of fleeting seconds, still gazing into eachother’s eyes. Either way, no explanation was needed, and no regrets were there to be. The kiss was _yet another_ _kiss_. Nothing dishonorable. The knock was firm. In the midst of his (still) drunken state, Christoph can still recognize that this knock sounded familiar. He gets up, scratches his head, and turns to Paul for a brief moment.

“I’m going to…see who’s on the door. Stay here.”

Paul nods. As he watched Christoph walking to the door, he’s caught up in _that_ strange vortex of thoughts yet again. _Breathe_. _I still haven’t found out who I am. I’ve been kissed by a man; I don’t really know how to feel about this. I’m glad I live on my own. But once I get home, I’ll start thinking. Oh my God, I’m so confused. I’ve been kissed by a man and I liked it. He’s…-_

“Paul, this is Till, a friend of mine.” – Christoph points at the man, swaying one arm in the air.

“Hello.”

He was tall, but unlike himself, not thin. Very broad shoulders and an overall muscular, strong body. There was a strange, magnetic aura around this new man. Very strange, quiet, enclosed in a mysterious fog. Light green eyes that looked like as if they were framed in a dark space. He could feel this man analyzing him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It’s like he could sense what had happened in this living room. See right through. A very low, baritone voice. But to his surprise, a very kind one.

“So, how did you get to know Christoph?”

“I- uh…It’s a long story.”

“Alright. You don’t have to say it if you don’t feel like it. Nice to meet you, dude. Schneider, I brought you the tapes you asked me for. I need to get going.”

“Nice to meet you too!”

“What’s your name again?”

“ _Hei_ -…Paul. My name’s Paul.”

This new acquaintance left. They are all alone. That moment seemed to be the best time for Paul to become socially awkward again, but the alcohol could still speak for itself. Or was it himself in an amplified state? Christoph was still standing, looking down at Paul, pondering his next move. The silence was unbearable. He craved to be kissed again.

“We play in the same band, as you could tell.” – His voice sounded controlled.

“Hm.”

The tall young man moves closer and sits next to Paul again.

“Why are you always so shy? You have to speak up.”

“I’m- sorry. I just-” – Paul’s jittery words are interrupted by Christoph’s lips, suddenly planted in his.

Paul wondered for a couple of seconds, just how could it be possible that a man with such a masculine energy and deep voice could be so sensual and elegant in the midst of these kisses. His big hands felt so good in his blonde hair. Christoph had such soft lips and velvety tongue. After all, that’s what he wanted. This was unlike anything else he’d experienced. Nothing like kissing a woman. Far from it. Heavenly. That is when he decided to let go of all fears, to be aware of who he was. He allows himself to take pleasure out of this experience, and to finally explore the man in front of him. His hands cup the sides of the younger’s hips, stroking them slowly. The response he got sent him to a higher realm of enjoyment. A big hand sneaks under his shirt, stroking his back from bottom to top, and from top to bottom. Music was still playing. While appreciating the warm hands on his skin, he notices Christoph giggling quietly.

“You’re hard, Heiko boy.” – Christoph grabs the other man’s crotch firmly, smiling devilishly.

“I’m…uh. Yes. Oh God.”

“Do you like this?”

Paul closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting Christoph touch him. Yet, something in him ached from shame. “Yes. Oh God, yes.”

“I knew there was something hidden in you, camera boy. Can I go on?”

“Go on?”

“Silly boy. It’s fine. You’re just nervous. Come on, it’s your birthday.”

“It is…my birthday, yes.”

“Do you want to try something new for your birthday?”

A mixture between contradiction and curiosity had been building up inside Paul ever since he had been kissed by another man. It’s conflictuous. He can't draw the line between what seems right or wrong. He freezes. He gets up from his seated position.

“I…I need to go.”

“What? I thought you wanted-”

“I do, I do. I just can’t. At least not now.”

He leaves.


	4. Frohes Neues Jahr, Christoph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New year, new life, new beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here is a new chapter, with a little bit more story development. The photos I used for reference are not from 1988, but they are close to what I pictured for this story. There is a reference to a song and allusions to mental health struggles (dissociation), so if you don't feel comfortable with that, you can skip that part. Either way, writing about it through a character helps me overcoming my own struggle with dissociation, and we should never have a tabu relationship with our mental health. We should talk about it openly.  
> Anyway, enjoy this new chapter. 
> 
> Tumblr: aphorismis

IV

_Frohes Neues Jahr, Christoph_

Not too much time had passed since Paul’s sudden disappearing from Christoph’s view. To Christoph, the other man’s sudden reaction was a perplexing cliff-hanger. It might have led him aswell to think he had been used as a means to an end, given his affiliation to the secret police. To Paul, it was clearly implied in his responses that he enjoyed being kissed and touched, and this new experience changed him in ways he would never expect. But this job of his gave a serious, safe rank before his family.

As an avid socialist, Paul’s father had never allowed little Heiko to much freedom of speech or expression. From an early age, forcefully adjoined to the _Pionere_. And by the time he reached a mature age, offered a position in the Stasi. Judging by his lanky, careless appearance, he would have never joined the secret police, because that would require strict rules for physical appearance. His father, as influential as he was among his peers, offered a fair amount of money and favors in order to make his _protégée_ serve the three-colored flag in the most honorable way possible. And as the years passed, this young boy had nevertheless grown into a unique person, and due to being headstrong, it eventually led him to start thinking only by using his own head. This way, drawing lines between this or that had always been a coping strategy. And that coping strategy would soon begin to cause trouble.

Being part of the Stasi was an _ungrateful_ job, and as each day passed, Paul would realize more and more how much it was a mask of his true self. A thick mask that was starting to glue itself to the skin. It’s sure he could be in touch with a large array of photographic technology, and photography had been, as far as he could remember, a passion. He did it to follow his father’s words. Two days after being with Christoph and _running away_ from him, he resigned from his job. Out of luck, there was a small job offer at a local library, where he could read any book he wanted in his free time. The income was not a lot. But every day, he would start disconnecting more and more with reality. Zoning out became a routine. At some point, he even [cut his hair shorter](https://66.media.tumblr.com/7fb84d8a015cb8c662ac0f0e2903a8ae/tumblr_mmqvn2CYYy1r745f1o1_400.jpg), in order to feel real. He had no sense of identity. Everything was starting to get confusing. He had been avoiding mirrors because mirrors scared him. His face scared him, and every time he looked for more than ten seconds at his reflection, sheer panic started to build up before a blur of bleach-blonde hair and pale skin. Reality was not a whole concept.

One morning, a morning that happened to be New Year’s Eve, Paul woke up and as usual headed to the bathroom. For the first time, he would try to face his reflection. _Be brave_ , he said to himself. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten seconds. A few tears started to pour down his reddened face, in utter confusion. Facing reality was hard.

_Alright, I have a face. This is my face. I have eyes. These are my eyes._

He washed his face with cold water, then facing up to take a few deep breaths. He shaves, gets dressed and eats something quick. His apartment feels peaceful today. Just like the snow outside, falling in slow motion. Some children playing in the white mist, wearing colourful scarves and beanies. Holding a cup of warm coffee in his hands, Paul notices a sheet of cream-colored paper on the desk. The coffee doesn’t taste like something outstanding. The one he had at Christoph’s house that one time tasted so much better and fuller, and he was sure it had been bought from an _Intershop_.

He exits that memory for a moment and grabs a black-inked pen, scribbling something, almost automatically.

_Happy New Year, Christoph_

* * *

In the next morning, everything looked the same outside. The houses, cars and bus stops covered in snow. White sky. He had spent New Year’s Eve by himself, watching the celebrations and firework on television. Cooked something rather decent and went to bed right after midnight.

It was now January the first, 1989. While he waits for the bus early in the morning, a car radio seems to play music from afar, leaving an echo in the air. It smells like fireplace smoke.

_Nimm den Zug, der Sehnsucht heißt,_

_Er bringt dich zurück zu mir._

_Wenn du viele Fragen hast, und du keine Antwort weißt,_

_Nimm den Zug, der Sehnsucht heißt._

_Lange haben wir uns nicht gesehn,_

_Viele Wochen, schon fast ein Jahr._

_Doch wenn wir wieder miteinander geh'n,_

_Ist das alles nicht mehr wahr._

He didn’t even like the song, it annoyed him completely. Reminded him of the songs that played on the radio while at home with his parents. But something in it made so much sense. He was going to take that bus and leave the note at Christoph’s door. He might have missed being near him.

After the bus trip, which was uneventful and empty, he reached the house. He still remembered where it was. Nearing the door, he got down on his knees, and slides the piece of paper under the dark green door. In a swift movement, he runs away as fast as possible, hoping to not be seen or heard. Paul had nearly lost sight of the building he had ran from. About to reach the alley, the bus stop, or any other way out of his anxious state, he turns his head to look behind, for a fast quarter of seconds.

_Maybe this was all a big, bad idea._

Following the street, he finds a small coffee house. Not a fancy one. Nothing in his world had ever been fancy, anyway. But it's not cold inside this place. He comes in, finding a spot in one of the further corners. He sits down, reaching out for a menu, hoping to settle for something affordable. Even if it that would be a cup of tea. He takes a moment to absorb the details around him. How people have different accents and voice tones. How each time someone opens the door to enter the coffee house, the bell behind it rings. He concentrates on the letters on the menu again. _The bell rings_.

Paul takes his eyes off the menu and slowly turns them to the door to see who had stepped foot in the cafeteria. This is absolute mockery. Stupidity. No, this can’t be it. This can’t just be it. This comes from my imagination. This can’t be him. The man tilts his head and furrows one eyebrow in disbelief. He walks towards him.

“Paul!”

_Oh no, please, no. I can’t be seen with you. Calm down, Paul, calm down. I don’t work for them anymore. It’s ok._

“I…almost didn’t recognize you. You look different.”

“Yes…I…cut my hair, I think…” – a tiny smile was sketched in Paul’s face, accepting this interaction. He was happy to see him, after all.

“It suits you. Happy New Year, Paul.”

His smile faded into a shocked expression. “Happy New Year, uh…I guess.”

“I know it was you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Christoph motions to the blonde waitress nearby, ordering two cups of black coffee politely.

“Who else could it be? I know it was you.”

“I…”

“It’s okay. I liked it. ”

“You liked it?”

“Yes. I liked you, Paul. But you left, just like that, and you left me confused. You know that. You left me very confused with that attitude.”

In the meantime, the waitress brings two steamy cups of coffee, placing them on the table.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. How is your coffee?”

“Hot. Yours?”

“Very hot.”

Both men burst into sudden laughter, and for a moment, it all seems real to Paul. Everything seems real again. The fear of looking into Christoph’s cold eyes was not there anymore.

“You look different too.”

“Yes! You know, a lot of hair is gone now too.”

“You look good.”

“Thank you. Let’s do something. Let’s go to my house.”

“When?”

“Now. We’ll finish coffee and go.”

When the caffeine is established in the body, Paul walks alongside the taller man to his apartment. As they get in, he isn’t able to not notice his handwritten piece of paper placed on Christoph’s coffee table. To him, this worked like a reality check. They are along. This feeling is strangely familiar.

“Paul.”

“Yes?”

“Was I inappropriate in the last time you were here?”

“No. I just…”

“Go on”

“I just couldn’t be seen with a man who’s linked to a punk band. At least not in public.”

“Ah, yes. I mean…that’s… but did you enjoy it?”

“Yes. And I quit the job. I’m working at a library now. Much calmer.”

“You’re full of surprises.” – Christoph smiles. “I may have to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Do you mind if I kiss you, again?”

“Not at all.”

In fact, he ached to be kissed every single night he was alone. He missed this contact. He could see how attractive the tall man was. How his eyes were even more intense, now that [his hair was shorter](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c337fb3a8c15dc6ac3f848b3a8e2311a/904f8820fea5a494-c1/s500x750/fd61ae67752a8c213045a8a866e23f06677126b0.jpg) too. They were made of the same substance.

“Come here.” – Christoph breaks the kiss, making Paul follow him to his room. He had never been in his room.

His room looked nothing like Paul expected. He was expecting a messy, uncoherent, teenage-like room. Nothing like it. The bed was placed in front of the window, decorated with a plaid cream and brown duvet. Something was on the bed. A pack of cigarettes. The bigger wall, on the right to the bed, was dark wine-red, with a few photographs hanged to it. Mostly landscapes, but also, a few people who appeared to be friends or bandmates. A very small, but neat bookshelf, next to a small bedside table. A Tiffany imitation lamp made out of pieces of purple and red glass. Very cozy room. Either way, he is distracted from analyzing this young man’s room with a warm kiss planted on his lips. A warm kiss that turns into passionate making out in a question of seconds. Everything was silent but their mouths.

“Christoph, you asked me something that last time-”

“He speaks! Yes?”

“You asked me if I wanted to try something new for my birthday.”

“Well, it’s not your birthday anymore.”

“But it’s a new year.”

“New year, new life…alright, I remember now. The offer is still up. What do you want to try?”

“I really don’t know how to do that with men…sorry.”

“What’s the problem? There is no problem. We’ll figure it out.”

Christoph smiles, looking into Paul’s eyes, while searching for a way to touch him under his thick winter sweater. He finally cups his hips, stroking them slowly; and undoes the blonde man’s belt, along with his pants. He pulls everything down, helping him get rid of all clothing below the waist. Paul can’t even believe it, but somehow, this is so real. And it makes him feel confident. He can see in Christoph’s eyes that he is mesmerized by his half-naked body. His eyes turn into an icy blue again, with a hint of something evil. His expression grows untranslatable and empty.

“You get hard very easily. Sit.”

Paul follows the instructions, sitting on the edge of the neat bed. He swallows firmly, seeing that the big man is now small from being down on his knees. He comes closer, pressing his cold hands to Paul’s knees, rubbing the thighs afterwards. The contact makes goosebumps form all over his skin. The cold hand wraps his hard member suddenly, while he concentrates on the walls, and that sends a jolt all over his body.

“Is that okay for you?”

“It’s…good. Yes.”

The hand strokes him with a steady pace, while a sneaky thumb circled his tip wonderfully. The hand is quickly replaced with a warm mouth that slowly envelopes the entirety of him. Paul grunts and whimpers lowly, lost in the arousal. Everything drove him crazy. The sight of this man taking him into his mouth, the wet sounds this action provided, and his own grunts. Christoph’s hands were clearly experienced, and they caressed his thighs and balls. He couldn’t take it anymore. Something very warm was starting to form in his lower stomach. And almost all too quickly, Paul convulsed repeatedly, unable to contain loud whimpers and a breathy moan. He looks at Christoph, cleaning the side of his lips with the back of his hand. He swallowed.

“You get hard very fast, and you came very fast.”

“I should probably return the favor. Can I try it?”

“Of course?”

Both stand up, only to have Paul get on his knees before this tall, sensual man. His legs are so long. He lowers his pants and underwear, revealing a beautiful hard penis, a vision that has Paul completely dumbfounded. He looks so intimidating. He had never done this.

“It’s not that difficult. Come on.”

Paul takes Christoph in his mouth, mimicking what had been done to himself. He sucks eagerly, hearing the other man moan softly; and his moans turn him on insanely.

“Oh my god…if you keep doing that so well like this, I won’t last long…”

Paul goes deeper, feeling the dark brown bush brush his nose.

“Oh fuck, Paul, I knew you were good…oh my god…”

A hot rope of cum hits the insides of Paul’s mouth by surprise, and despite the sudden reflex to puke, he swallows deeply, still with his mouth full.

“You are so beautiful, Paul.” – Christoph covers his eyes with his hands, rubbing his face. He removes the remaining pieces of clothing in front of the shorter man, and lays on his back, on the bed. – “Come here.”

“That was so good.” – Paul joins him, shyly removing his sweater, until both are naked. They lay comfortably under the duvet.

“There is really nothing to be ashamed of. We just sucked eachother’s dicks.”

“Christoph…Jesus…you’re…” – Under the warm duvet, Paul feels the same sneaky hand rubbing his chest up and down.

“You can touch me too.”

The next hours were spent making out either languidly, or insistently. A few handjobs, some jokes, laughs, conversations. Until they fell into a sweet sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical references
> 
> Pionere: ("Pioneers") an East German youth organization for persons from 6 to 14 years of age.  
> Intershop: a shop in East Germany where it was possible to find Western or high-quality products. Nevertheless, not affordable for everybody.  
> Song reference: Aurora Lacasa - "Nimm den Zug, der Sehnsucht heißt", (1973).


	5. Winter landscapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you are doing alright. This chapter is very descriptive, giving you a deeper insight on the time period. Warning: the chapter contains slightly strong language.
> 
> Tumblr: aphorismis

V

_Winter landscapes_

The moments shared in that very early morning were something to always remember. Both young men had fallen into a peaceful sleep. For Paul, it was a nap worth two full nights of sleep. He felt revitalized, for once. His conscience was clear like spring water, and waking up to see the younger man to his side brought him a sense of safety he hadn’t experienced since he was a child, when sleeping next to his mother after a nightmare.

Standing up, Paul looks through the curtains. The same winter landscape he was so used to seeing, but now in a different light. Before this window, there is a set of apartment buildings, shaped almost like boxes. These buildings all look the same. _Plattenbau_ – prefabricated buildings. The same distance between windows, the same beige or grey color. A very strange concept, but very common in most neighborhoods. Everything is still covered in snow and bizarrely empty: the cars, a playground, a bus stop. Pankow felt emptier than the center of Berlin. Just like the landscape, _everything_ was bizarre and empty in a way, as if his world was a blur, sometimes. So empty, so slow. But not in that day. He still wonders what life beyond the borders is like.

He collects his clothing from the floor, and rushes to get dressed. The room is for sure not as cold as outdoors, but still, very chilly. Afterwards, he walked to the living room, and it reminded him of the first abrupt encounter with this other man. Christoph was a simple, yet so special man. One could notice that by the way his furniture and clutter were combined.

His living room, just like the rest of the house, didn’t have much. On one corner of an empty wall, there was a TV device on a honey-colored wooden drawer. There was also an olive-green telephone. The wallpaper was a little bit _tasteless_ ; one would say: vertical light green and cream stripes. But unfortunately, it wouldn’t be affordable for the majority of people to furnish an entire house like a catalogue. On the adjacent wall, a small wood-framed painting of a forest; and under the painting, a dark green armchair.

While Paul delves in the observation of his surroundings, he hears the fain rustling of the bed covers, which indicated Christoph had just woken up.

\- Good morning

\- Good morning…? We woke up from a nap.

\- Technically, you can still say morning. We haven’t had lunch yet. Speaking of lunch, are you hungry?

\- I am. Can I help?

\- You’ve already _helped_ a lot today, Paul.

There was nothing very fancy to eat in that moment, so they ate canned beans and buttered some slices of bread. And as usual, a hot cup of milk coffee to comfort their stomachs.

\- Paul. Have you ever wondered what it’s like to live behind the wall?

\- Yes. But it doesn’t bother me.

\- It doesn’t bother you? Don’t you think things will change? Things have to change.

\- They will. But not now.

Christoph appears slightly angered, given the older man’s passivity. He turns the radio on. Paul suddenly gets up from the chair too. He rushes to the bedroom, in search of his backpack. Then, he comes back to the living room, rummaging through the inside of his backpack.

\- What do you have there?

\- A camera.

The taller man’s mouth opens in awe, in a simultaneous smile.

\- A camera? That’s a Polaroid! That shit is expensive!

\- I know.

\- Where did you get that from?

\- Places.

\- Did you steal that from them? Come on!

\- I…

\- You did!

\- What does it matter now? You know? Let me tell you some things. Most of us can’t even have one. My mom offered me a _Praktina_ once. She worked hard for it. And I’ve always taken good care of it. Our life is made easy, though. But the moment I started working for them…you should see what I’ve seen, Christoph. If you knew how fucking claustrophobic those rooms are.

\- Rooms?

\- Interrogation rooms. The jail. Oh those poor kids. Being tied up against the wall. Getting beaten up. I don’t even know how I pretended I understood it. Parents who try to cross the border, only to get arrested and getting their kids taken away. I am as tired as you, Christoph. You know what? I’m confused. So one day I thought, I should just let go of what is morally correct for me. One day, I just said: fuck this shit.

\- And you stole the camera.

\- I did. But what does that matter? Will it stop another kid getting beaten up in the back of an interrogation room?

\- Calm down.

Christoph gently pats Paul’s shoulder, smiling at him in a comforting attitude. He leaves to his room, coming back immediately with an acoustic guitar in his hands. He hands it to the blonde Paul, utterly confused, looking sunk in the middle of the couch.

\- Here. Try this.

\- Are you crazy? I can’t play.

\- And?

\- I’m…

\- Try it. It will help you. Let me ask you something: what makes you angry?

\- What makes me angry?

\- Yes. You said you liked punk. Have you ever considered playing an instrument?

\- I haven’t. And yes, I do like it.

\- So tell me something that makes you angry.

\- The Ministry.

\- All of the things.

\- These buildings. The kids getting beaten up. The wall.

\- What did you think when you stole the camera?

\- Fuck this.

\- Louder!

\- FUCK THIS SHIT!

\- WONDERFUL! Now, strum through these strings. Think about all of that.

Christoph smiles in delight, enjoying the process of freeing Paul from his tension and anger. He always thought he should play the guitar, ever since they met. He looks physically freer, even not knowing how to play the guitar. He will learn.

> _To be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Plattenbau": architectural model widespread in the Eastern block in the late 20th century, consisting of prefabricated buildings. You can find this type of architecture in the former GDR, Poland and Russia.  
> "Praktina": a camera model.  
> "Ministry": referring to the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit, also known as the Stasi.


End file.
